The Naughty List: 25 Days of Sawyer’s Steamiest Scenes (Day #22)

Willow comes out swinging. “You are a backstabbing son of a bitch, do you know that?”

It’s loud enough some of my guests had to have heard her, and I’m not about to let this drama unfold in front of them.

“I strongly disagree,” I say in a low voice as I take her elbow and steer her right around toward the door. “But we’ll have this conversation in private if you don’t mind.”

“Why?” she demands, trying to jerk away. I tighten my grip, propelling her through the door and into the hallway. Because the game is in play, most people are in their seats, but there are a few stragglers who give us surprised looks as I continue to march her along while she castigates me.

“Was telling Dax your way of getting back at me? Did you think I’d come crawling back to you or something? Be the meek little girlfriend who sits around on my ass and lets you take care of me? Is that what you thought, Dominik?”

We reach the private elevator, which only the executive staff have access to. It goes up to the offices and down to the basement level where the locker rooms are. When I press my security badge to the scanner, the doors open. I push a glaring Willow inside.

When the doors close, I hit the button for the top floor and take a step back to give her a cool look. “You know damn well you have no reason to be mad, Willow. I didn’t intentionally spill your secret, nor did I even know it was a secret.”

“Oh, you knew,” she snaps, but I can hear it in her tone… she doesn’t believe it. She’d just wanted the opportunity to put herself within my range so we can hash everything out.

So be it.

The elevator opens and I take her elbow again, maneuvering her down a darkened hall and into my office. I shove the door open, push her through, and kick it shut. Before Willow can get another word in, I sling her around until she collides into my body. My mouth crashes down on hers, and I kiss her fucking silent.

It’s a beautiful thing—the way she responds—and it confirms everything I had been hoping for. She’s not truly mad. It’s repairable.

I pull away, prepared to apologize for giving her an ultimatum, but fuck if she doesn’t launch into me again. “I mean seriously, Dominik… you should have known my family wouldn’t know about how I got those scars. And besides… what I do with my life is none of your damn business. Why were you even on that phone call to begin—”

I tune her out. Disconnecting from her ranting, I start to remove my lime green and electric blue tie.

Vengeance colors, but it has other uses than team pride.

Seemingly without taking a breath, Willow continues to rail against me. I put my hand to the back of her head and when her jaw unhinges especially wide while calling me all kinds of colorful names, I shove the tie inside.

She makes a choking sort of sound—more disbelief than anything—and I get just a glimpse of her eyes rounding in shock before I’m spinning her around and pushing her down over my desk.

Her palms slap onto the cherry wood, her torso pressing onto a stack of folders that contain scouting prospects for next year. I step in behind her, press my pelvis to her ass, and lower down over her. My palms come down on the desk near her head, and I bring my mouth to her ear so she can hear me very clearly. “Enough with the recriminations. You should have it out of your system by now.”

Growling, she moves her fingers as if she’s going to pull the tie out of her mouth. My hand locks around her wrist. “Leave it. I like not hearing you for a change.”

Another tiny growl escapes her, but it has no punch since she wiggles her ass against my thickening cock.

“Admit it,” I whisper, grinding into her ass. “You came here because you wanted this.”

Willow shakes her head frantically, and I chuckle. “Liar. Beautiful, fuckable liar. You totally want it. It’s why you came to the owner’s box.”

She starts to shake her head again, but I slide my other hand between her legs to cup her possessively and she arches against my touch.

“I’ll give it to you, Willow. If you want it.”

A low, keening sound comes from her throat. I take that to mean it’s not just something she wants, but something she needs.

The rest is a blur. I think it’s the way she rocks backward into me, grinding that lush ass against my hard length. How she doesn’t remove the tie from her mouth, even though she’s more than capable. Choosing silence instead of the opportunity to tell me I’m right about the reasons for her being here.

Somehow, her leggings end up around her ankles. I also manage to get one shoe off and one pant leg pulled free. I force her legs apart, kneel, and work her with my mouth from behind. She squirms against me, squeals against the gag. When she’s a writhing, sopping mess, I surge up with my cock in hand and my pants low around my waist. Slamming into her—claiming her as mine—is the best fucking feeling in the world because Willow came back on her own volition.

I have no clue what it means.

For all I know, it’s still just sex to her.

Maybe more, since Willow is the most complex woman I’ve ever met.

We have a lot of talking to do, but first… fucking.

I drive into her over and over again. Willow plants her feet and pushes back against me with every thrust, forcing me in deeper whether I want to be there or not.

But, oh… I want to be there.

Deep inside of her—every fucking chance I can get.

Reaching out, I put one hand on her shoulder and with the other, I yank the tie out of her mouth before grabbing her hip to hold her steady as I fuck her over my desk.

“Admit it, Willow,” I grunt, plunging my cock into her. “We’re good together.”

I get nothing but gasps and moans in response.

I draw my hand back, then let it fly forward to crack down on her ass. It’s something we discovered she likes very much… on that very first night we were together.

Willow yips, slamming back onto my cock so hard it actually hurts. I smack her ass again, the resounding blow causing my hand to tingle. “Admit it,” I growl.

“We’re good together,” she gasps, then her back arches so deeply I think her spine might break as she starts to come. I can feel it all over, her orgasm leeching into me and mine gallops forward to meet her pleasure.

I push in hard, plant deep, and unload eight fucking days of pent-up frustration, lust, and worry into her. Vaguely, I hear the buzzer in the arena going off, signifying the end of the game.

My team is down there on the ice, presumably having kept our lead and won game two, yet… I can’t find it within me to be bothered to care right now.

Because the woman splayed out underneath me has once again rocked my world in a way I can’t compare to any feeling I’ve ever had before.

What I have with her is unique, and therefore, it can’t be taken lightly anymore.

I bring my palms to the desktop again, lower myself onto her, and brush my lips across the nape of her neck. “You okay?”

“More than,” she mutters and although I can’t see her face, I can hear her smile.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” I order, allowing no room for argument.

“Okay,” she whispers… seeming totally replete.

“And you’re staying with me, at least until the playoffs are over,” I press, needing her to agree to more than one night.

“Okay,” she says again without an ounce of hesitation and I feel triumphant.

“Good girl.”

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Sawyer Bennett

New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author Sawyer Bennett uses real life experience to create relatable stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. Continue Reading